


The Wall

by silverxenomorph



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Original Lost Light, Parallel Lost Light, Rodimus still has self-esteem issues, Sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-19
Updated: 2018-12-19
Packaged: 2019-09-22 21:38:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17067605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silverxenomorph/pseuds/silverxenomorph
Summary: Somewhere on the Lost Light exists a wall.  No-one knows who started it or maintains it. Only that the words "In Memoriam" make clear its purpose.





	The Wall

**Author's Note:**

> Unbeta'd. This is something that came to me while I tried to sleep last night. Contains stories from both Lost Lights
> 
> Edited 21/12/18 for some spelling and grammar fixes.

_Parallel Lost Light_

 

For being one of the Lost Light's major cargo bays, Bay 4, was one of the least utilized rooms on the whole ship. 'Least utilized' meant 'a place that built up junk' in Ultra Magnus' book. And looking over the collection of barrels, storage cubes and spare parts stacked haphazardly in random spots, Rodimus felt he had little choice but to agree.

The door was offset to the left of the cargo bay facing the large shuttle worthy airlock doors, with a small free standing control console a few steps inside.  Rodimus walked past the console around its outside edge, kicked a loose bolt into a barrel, and blindly slapped at the lighting panel to activate the lights. He hissed that the sudden brightness. Light revealed that some of the barrels and cubes had been turned into crude seating as well as an odd table or two. Some of the cubes appeared to have what looked like small lanterns set on them.

"Weird." Roddy wrinkled his nose as he picked one up.

He shrugged. People were clearly using the bay, though He hoped not for anything Magnus would deem 'shady'. While crude, the furniture wasn't what he would call junk, so he called the 'inspection' done. Dumping the lantern back on the 'table' unceremoniously he turned to leave, that's when he saw the wall.

It would be hard not see the damn wall. Dozens of framed photographs in neat, evenly spaced rows and columns graced it. Each neatly labelled with a Name and a set of dates. Parts of it were decorated in bright happy colours and patterns - clearly Ten's handiwork- in stark contrast to what the framed pictures on the wall _were_. The giant plaque that topped those neat frames contained only two words. The Wall's purpose.

 

' **In Memoriam** '

 

A fancy way of saying "People Rodimus had failed" to everyone who saw it.

Rodimus was shaking as he stepped closer to the wall. A finger ghosted over the edge of one frame. 'Ambulon of Operation Split Infinity' - his Activation and Deactivation dates were carefully carved underneath. Taking a shaky vent and clearing his overheating optics, Roddy made his way to the first frame on the wall. It took some time for his processor to parse that each of the frames was ordered in the exact order of which their portraits had died. By then Rodimus had stepped backwards away from the wall, spoiler tucked low, sick to his fuel tanks.

He wasn't sure how long he'd been staring at the wall, his failures laid bare, optics all but threatening to burn out.

"There you are."

Rodimus started so hard he swore. Megatron seemed to fill the doorway of the cargo bay.

"What are you doing?"

"Looking for you. Drift's only been Comm-ing you for the last hour." Megatron crossed the space quickly. "So you found it, finally."

"Yes. Wait, What? You've, everyone's been hiding this from me?" Rodimus accused.

"No one's been hiding anything from you."

"Oh, sure. A great big wall covered in the faces of everyone I've ever failed? That's not something to keep me away from?"

Megatron sighed resisting the urge to pinch his nose.

"Rodimus. This isn't a list of your failures." Large hands came to rest on red shoulders. "This is a place for memories. Good, Bad, Grief. It's a place of promises, love and friendship."

"Everyone of these people died on my watch!" Rodimus glared into red optics.

"Not everyone."

Megatron wisely did not voice that most of the lower rows were in fact, Getaway's victims, the ones who hadn't survived his tenure as captain. Getaway himself was on the wall. Though he had no decoration, words or items left on his portrait.

"Still..."

"Still nothing. Everyone on this wall - Every. Single. One - would never blame you for what happened to them. You did not fail them. Here they are remembered and celebrated."  He pointed to Skid's portrait. There were flowers, notes and other things all but covering the space around it. He motioned to other just as decorated frames "See?"

The smaller mech nodded slowly, still hesitant to believe in what the former warlord was saying.

"Now come. You've got a worried Amica who is bothering me about finding you so he can attack you with wax and polish. I believe he wants to make sure you blind Roller tonight."

Rodimus stuttered at the mention of his date but allowed Megatron to push him towards the door.

"Megs?"

"Yes, Rodimus?"

"Who did all of this?"

Megatron stopped, and looked away in thought.

"I've asked others who come here, but no one knows who started the wall, nor to they know who maintains it. A few have admitted to adding a portrait or two on their own, but they always get sorted out into order and labelled accordingly. It's not Magnus even though they are sorted and hung so properly. I asked."

"Weird."

"Indeed. Now go. You'll be late." Megatron gave the little prime a shove.

"Thanks, Megs. For everything." Rodimus paused at the door.

 "You're welcome, Rodimus."

After he'd left, Megatron turned back to wall. He reached out and gently adjusted Terminus's portrait.  A sad smile and a quick nod later, he followed the brightly coloured mech out of the cargo bay.

 

 

* * *

 

 

_Original Lost Light_

 

The Cargo bay was dark, pilot lights the only source of lighting throughout the ship. A figure silently slipped through the doors of the once functional ship-turned-Monument to the Crusadercons. The Museum was closed this late in the solar cycle, but that didn't stop Drift from sneaking aboard with single minded purpose. He knew where the security cams were. They hadn't changed or added to them after the conversion to museum.

He used a hand lamp to sweep the wall. For some reason there was a portrait sized gap between Nine-of-Twelve and Megatron. Rumour had it that the curators had tried to hang Megatron's portrait there -after some very intense and controversial debating about whether Megatron's portrait should have been added at all-  but it had kept falling down. It had taken some protesting from supportive members of the former crew to get it shifted to the next spot over the curator's objections. Megatron had been an integral member of the crew after all, regardless of his legacy and fate.

But reminiscing was not his reason to be here. The Curators, after the Megatron incident, had banned the addition of new portraits to the wall. Citing damage to historical property as the reason. Frag that. Drift shoved the hand lamp into his mouth and drew out a small hammer, hook and nail from his subspace. A few quick hits lodged the hook to the wall and the hammer slipped back to where he'd drawn it from. A second dip into the pocket produced a frame similar to the others. This is what he'd come for. A deep vent around the lamp bounced the beam of light. He hesitated. Doing this meant it was final. Ratchet was gone. But he would be here, with everyone else. Good Company. Taking another deep vent, Drift gently placed the portrait on the hook, making sure it was level. He took the lamp out of his mouth and pressed his helm to the frame.

"I miss you."

Another gentle touch to the frame and he was gone.

His act of  defiance wasn't discovered for some decacycles. The Curators pointed their fingers at him, of course, but they did not have concrete evidence that he was the one to have done it. And he wasn't going to admit to doing it. Ratchet belonged there, and the public agreed. The matter was settled when Windblade stepped in and forbade the curators from taking it down. Ratchet belonged there. He belonged there. And no one could ever take that away from him.

**Author's Note:**

> Wait. What? I wrote something again? Who is this? Where did these words come from? Why did they flow out of my brain so easily?
> 
> Just a Note: I don't actually ship Dratchet. I never have. But what's canon is canon and I live to make my favourite character utterly miserable, my poor Drift. JRo mentioned on Twitter that Roddy would have settled for Roller. So RollerRod it is for this fic. I'm assuming Ambulon's name ends with 'Infinity' though I'm not sure what other words start with "Infin".
> 
> But Onward to a new IDW Universe!
> 
> I'm actually flying home for Christmas in 7 1/2 hours. And I wrote this in under 3 hours. Go figure. Last time I wrote that quickly I got a High Distinction on the assignment.


End file.
